View Full Version : The Misadventures of Petey (requested by bonkersjm)

07-09-2012, 12:46 AM

By Bryon

I will now begin the first of a series of stories about a young man to whom the fates have not been kind. His name is Petey and, despite his good intentions, he incurs the ill-will of many a woman. You see, Petey is the proverbial scapegoat, and he often suffers the blame for the failings of other men. Petey is always innocent of the charges leveled against him by women, but he invariably pays the price. If Petey weren’t so eager to oblige his fellow men, he could slip through life relatively unscathed; but Petey wants to help. Regrettably, he can never quite figure out how not to get into scrapes with women.

To make things worse, women just love rubbing their feet on Petey’s face; in fact, they can’t keep their feet of him. Was he cursed or forced to suffer like Job? We don’t know. But it’s enough to say that whenever he unwittingly aroused a woman’s anger or lust for revenge, the woman would use her feet to teach him a lesson.

So without further ado, let’s embark on Petey’s troubled odyssey.


By Bryon

At the time of this story, Petey was around twenty years of age and as innocent as he was at age ten. He had not yet been with a woman and, to be honest, knew not the first thing about them. Petey was a wide-eyed college sophomore in a sleepy university town who took to wandering his neighborhood just to marvel at the beauty of the world.

On one such trek, Petey bumped into a brazen young man with a shifty gaze and an enormous green briefcase which scraped against the ground. I should mention that Petey, ever careless, quite literally bumped into the man and knocked him flat against the pavement.

"Can’t you watch where you’re going," groaned the man as he picked himself up.

Petey apologized profusely and asked the man if there was anything he could do to help.

The man gazed at Petey and, likely struck by Petey’s innocent appearance, chose to confide in him. "Well, I’m in a bit of a pickle," began the man. "I need to hide this briefcase somewhere. I’d like to put it in that abandoned shed over the wall over there, but my game leg is making it difficult for me to scale the wall. Perhaps you could give me a lift."

Petey was more than happy to do so and offered "to climb the wall himself and hide it in the shed himself."

The man was hesitant about handing over the briefcase, but when he failed to scale the wall, even with Petey’s assistance, he offered to let Petey climb the wall.

With boundless enthusiasm for helping his fellow man, Petey grabbed the briefcase and literally bounded up the wall. To Petey’s credit, he was tall, athletic and blessed with superhuman energy. He leapt over the other side and proceeded to the abandoned shed 150 yards away.

The door to the shed opened quite easily and Petey stepped inside. From all appearances, it looked like a site used for the storage of sports equipment, along with miscellaneous junk. Petey took to exploring the ground level before proceeding to the basement which contained more unused equipment and junk.

Petey must have been exploring for a good half hour, and was completely occupied with his quest for the perfect hiding place for the briefcase. He’d already quite forgotten about the man who who must have been out of his mind with rage.

Unfortunately, just when Petey thought he’d tumbled upon the perfect spot for he case, he felt a searing pain to the back of his head, and everything went black.

When Petey awoke, he was in a furnished room, bound on the floor, his wrists tied behind his back and his ankles tied together. He struggled but he couldn’t fathom what could have happened to him while he was unconscious. "Help," yelled Petey. "Help, I can’t move," he continued.

And then Petey heard footsteps just outside the door. It opened and when Petey craned his neck to see who it was, he saw a buxom and muscular woman of around thirty years of age towering above him. She was wearing spandex shorts, a tee-shirt and running shoes.

"Welcome to my office," said the woman in a booming voice. "My name’s Linda and I run this camp."

"Where am I," asked Petey.

"Oh, you’re at a woman’s soccer camp and I had you brought here so I could figure out just what to do with you."

Just then, Linda slammed the green briefcase onto the floor next to Petey. "This must be the money you embezzled. I heard about you on the news."

"I didn’t do that," explained Petey. "There was a man who wanted to hide it and I offered to help him hide it."

"Do you think I’m stupid, scumbag?" remarked Linda before she brought her foot down onto his stomach. Petey gasped for air and then attempted to explain what had happened in greater detail. She wasn’t interested.

"But what really bothers me," continued Linda. "Is that you chose our private soccer camp to sneak about. I’m sure that wasn’t a coincidence."

"I had no idea," said Petey, still out of breath. "If I’d known..."

Linda cut him off. "Shut up," she yelled, kicking him in the side of his stomach. "These premises are off limits to men, which means the women don’t always worry about dressing up. And that is why we have men prowling about thinking they’re going to sneak a peak. You’re not only a thief, you’re also a peeping Tom. Personally, I’m sick of turning you guys into the cops because they never do anything about it. I think we’ll have to take things into our own hands."

"Please, you really are mistaken," replied Petey. "I certainly never meant to offend ..."

Linda cut him off again. But she surprised him by pressing the dirty sole of her sneakered foot against his face. "You’re scum and I want the women here to feel the same way I do. We’re going to teach you a lesson, little man; one you won’t soon forget.

"But I didn’t do anything," pleaded Petey.

And then Linda fell onto his chest, taking his neck between her muscular quads and squeezing. "I’m getting tired of hearing your mouth. There’s nothing you can say to make me feel any different about your kind."

I need something to stop your mouth," mused Linda aloud to herself. She hesitated for a moment and then her scowl dissolved into a grin. "I’ve got the perfect gag." Having said that, Linda popped off one of her running shoes and slowly peeled off the sweat sock. She held it to her nose and wrinkled her nose with distaste.

"Boy that stinks, " remarked Linda with a chuckle. She held the sock away from her and then dangled it over his nose. "As a coach of women’s soccer, I’m always on my feet. I guess I forgot to put on a new pair of socks today." Her sock was indeed stinky, and the pungent aroma of sweaty feet and old sneakers offended his delicate senses.

Petey turned his face away but Linda was incredibly strong, and held his head still with one hand. "Now open you r mouth," she demanded. As Petey refused to do as he was told, Linda pressed her thighs into his neck until he gagged. As he involuntarily opened his mouth, she began to stuff the rancid-smelling sock into his mouth, to end first. "Now suck on this," she added with a laugh.

Petey couldn’t spit it out as Linda had stuffed too much of it into his mouth. He attempted to plead with her but he could only moan and grunt. Linda, wearing an enormous smile, stood up and gazed at him. "Now that’s a sight."

Linda then lifted her sweaty bare foot over his face and pressed her size 10 onto his face. "Now I can make you smell them," she chuckled. "Maybe once you sniff my stinky feet, you’ll think twice about spying on women." Linda cupped her musty, cheesy-smelling toes over his nose and ordered him to smell her toes.

Linda then made herself comfortable by sitting on Petey’s chest, making it even more difficult for him to breath; and then she removed her other shoe. She pressed her other sock foot over his face and her warm, stinky sock toes played over his nose. Once she removed the other sock she began to rub foot sweat into his face, roughly manhandling him with her dirty, sweaty, stale-smelling peds.

She had subjected him to fifteen minutes of smelling her stinking feet, on top of the humiliation of having a woman rub her feet all over his face, when she cocked her head and listened. "I think some of the girls are back from practice," she remarked to herself. And then she stood up.

Petey fully expected her to untie him and let him go, but Linda just laughed to herself. "I’ve got the perfect punishment for a perverted thief like you. Just perfect." And then she left.

Five minutes later, Petey became aware of female voices in the distance; the voices grew louder and louder until the door swung open again. Along with Linda came four or five women between the ages of seventeen and twenty-two. They were amused by this unusual scenario and uttered various expressions of disbelief at seeing a man tied to the floor with a socks stuffed in his mouth.

"Is that your sock in his mouth," remarked one of the girls.

"It is," she replied proudly. The girls groaned their disgust. "He was, after all, trying to spy on all of you in the shower." Petey wanted to object to this, but all he cold do was moan. "Thankfully, I caught him before he could bother any of you."

"But what do you want us to do?," asked another girl.

"Well, I’ve asked everyone else to stay outside because I want them to do something else. But I’ve asked you girls here because I need you to help me undress him."

"What," replied a girl, evidently astonished by this request.

"I will give each of you $100 if you remove all of his clothes and bring them to me outside. You’ll have to undo the cords, so be careful he doesn’t escape. But I want him stripped."

"You’re kidding, right Coach?" asked one of the girls.

"I’m completely serious," continued Linda. "And if any of you don’t want $100, you can leave now."

"Where did you get the money?"asked the first girl.

"Let’s just say this little pervert came with his own money," explained Linda.

"That’s so wicked of you," remarked one of the girls and the others giggled nervously.

"I’ll give you five minutes," added Linda. "If you don’t give me every stitch of clothing by then, none of you get paid. And you have five minutes starting now." Linda quickly left the room leaving the girls confused as to how to proceed."

"Damn it, "said one of the girls. "This isn’t fair."

"I need the money, " said someone else. "Come on."

Petey then felt one of the girls grab hold of his shoe and pry it off. The girl peeled off his sock before prying off his other shoe. "

"Come on," the girl shouted, "we only have four and a half minutes."

"Suddenly, the girls sprung into action and began to tug at his clothes.

One of the girls looked him in the face and smiled. ‘I’m sorry about this, but we need the money." The girl then proceeded to unbutton his shirt while a couple of the others unzipped his pants and pulled them to his ankles. Once his underpants were pulled down, the girls could no longer refrain from giggling. But they worked feverishly.

Several of the girls took to sitting on him to hold him down while two of them, untied the ankle and wrist restraints and removed the clothing before retying the restraints.

Petey, now naked and crimson with embarrassment watched as the girls, still giggling amongst themselves, hurried out the door with their quarry.

Five minutes later, Linda returned; this time bringing eight or nine of the young women with her. They reacted to the sight of a naked man bound and gagged with nervous laughter; but, as the room was small, they crowded around him, gazing down upon him.

"What’s going on, Coach," asked one of the girls.

"Well, you know why I have him here and that it’s up to teach him a lesson, so this is what I need you to do. I want each of you to take turns rubbing your feet on his face. "

The girls gasped with disbelief. "What," muttered someone.

"I want you girls to help me humiliate him, and I think a dose of sweaty feet ought to do the trick. If you rub your feet in his face for five minutes I’ll give you one hundred dollars."

"Let me get this straight," began one of the girls. "You want us to rub our smelly feet in his face for five minutes and we can walk away with one hundred dollars of his money? That’s like him paying us to humiliate him."

"Exactly," replied Linda to everyone’s amusement.

"All you have to do is have him smell your feet and a one hundred dollar bill is yours. Who doesn’t want one?" No one objected.

Linda grabbed a chair and set it next to Petey’s face. "Then let’s get started," said Linda. "Who’s first?" No one spoke.

"You, Mona, you go first," demanded Linda. "Make sure you get his nose under your toes."

"Could I wash up first?" asked Mona. "I’m really sweaty and my feet probably stink."

"You only get paid," explained Linda, "if you do this before you get cleaned up. We’re supposed to teach him a lesson here."

Mona took a seat and began to remove her soccer cleats with her feet.

"GO on," encouraged Linda, as Mona was showing signs of reluctance. Mona then pressed her socked feet onto his face and began to rub them all over. The stench of stale sweat and moldy sneakers assaulted his nose as Mona brushed her sock toes over his nose and under his nostrils.

"I’m sorry about the smell," apologized Mona. "But money’s money."

"Don’t apologize," exclaimed Linda. "I saw him going though the used socks in the clothes hamper. He probably loves the stink."

"Really?" asked Mona as she cupped her sock toes over his nose.

"He’s a foot pervert," added Linda. "Now show him what you do with a foot pervert."

Resting her feet on his face, Mona peeled off her socks one by one, and presented Petey with a view of her sweaty, slightly soiled size 9 bare feet. She began to rub them over his face, quite enthusiastically this time. "Smell my sweaty feet, creep."

"That’s the spirit," laughed Linda as she prepared to leave. "Have fun girls. And you girls will be the first nine. I’ll be sending others in, so keep track of the order. Once you’ve taken your turn, come out and I’ll pay you. And, girls, be thorough. Make him smell your socks, your bare feet and you should make him sniff inside your shoes. The assistant coach, Kristy, will keep an eye on things." Linda nodded to Kristy before leaving.

Once Linda left, the girls, including Kristy, who couldn’t have been more than twenty four herself, began to giggle and whisper amongst themselves.

"I can’t believe this is happening," began one of the more sympathetic girls. "Poor guy. We should put some clothes on him at least. " And she set a workout jacket over his privates.

"Where’s your sense of humor, Annie?" asked another. "Think about it. This guy has to smell everyone’s feet. There must be at least thirty five of us. It’s so cruel and humiliating, it’s funny."

Annie continued to speak. "But we can refuse, Carla."

"And not get the money, are you kidding?" replied Carla. "All I have to do is rub my sweaty feet in his face and I get paid. You better believe I’m rubbing my feet all over his face. Might be fun." Others laughed.

During this exchange, Petey attempted to communicate with them, to appeal to their sense of pity with mournful eyes. But the women debated as if he weren’t even there. And Mona continued to slide her sweaty feet all over his face, occasionally rubbing her toes over his nose and squeezing. Mona didn’t seem to bothered by the fact that poor Petey had to smell her sour-smelling bare feet.

"Hey, I’m in favor, as long as I don’t have to smell everyone’s nasty feet," added another voice.

"All in favor of rubbing our feet in his face and getting paid," said Carla, "say I." The others gave their resounding consent, all but for Annie who maintained her ethical objections.

"Now let’s be practical," added Carla "all he has to do is stomach a little foot odor. That’s it."

"I’d do it if my feet weren’t so sweaty," replied Annie. ‘Then pretend your feet are clean," answered Carla "and get your money. Besides, he was a pepping Tom."

"Yeah, you’re right," concluded Annie.

By this time, the debate subsided and everyone cheered Mona as she finished rubbing her funky foot sweat into Petey’s face. She finished by opening one of her cleats and holding it over his nose. Everyone cheered the audacity of the gesture and were even more amused by the sight of Petey sniffing inside a well-worn shoe than by watching Mona slide her toes under his nose and order him to sniff under her cheesy-smelling toenails.

"Go tell the others," asked Carla as she mounted the chair. "They’ll never forgive us if we don’t tell them." One of the girls left the room as Carla kicked of her cleats and presented Petey’s face with a pair of dirty, moist, vinegary , sharp-smelling sock feet. She began to rub them in his face, giving special attention to his nose, rubbing her toes over it as if she were pushing an orange over an orange squeezer.

"This is fun," remarked Carla as she playfully let her sock feet slide all over Petey’s face. Two of the other girls had taken the precaution of holding his face still with the bottoms of their dirty cleats, one pair pressed on either side of his face. Petey didn’t want to give either of them a reason to press their cleated shoes into his head and so he gave Carla free run of his face; and Carla took full advantage.

As more girls popped their heads into the room to see if all they’d heard was true, Carla pulled off her damp socks and pressed them against his nose. "Have a good whiff of those; go on sniff hard." Petey sniffed hard; he couldn';t breathe so he had no choice.

"Carla," said Annie "you’re going way beyond the call of duty. All you have to do is rub your feet in his face. "

"Sorry for having fun," replied Carla, rolling her eyes. Carla pressed her sock over his nose with her dirty bare toes. "If you’re going to do something, you might as well enjoy it. And how often do you get to make a guy smell your feet and socks?"

Carla explored his face with the wrinkled soles of her pungent size 6’s and let her cheddary toes slide over his nose. Like Mona, Carla then upturned one of her shoes and forced Petey to smell inside. It was a hot, moldy smell of shoes which had been worn far too often and far too long.

And then, one by one, the other girls took their turns. By turns, the girls became more aggressive with Petey, even taking to slapping his face with their smelly bare feet, or pressing them hard into his face. By the time Carla implored Annie to take her turn, Annie gradually took a seat and slowly took off her shoes.

"Ooh, they stink," laughed Carla. "No wonder you didn’t want to do this. Your feet are rank." Annie stood up to leave but Carla held her down. "Just put your feet on his face and get your money, added Carla."

Annie sat down and pulled off one of her socks, but before she could place her feet on his face, Carla grabbed the sock. "God, I don’t even want to touch this putrid thing," said Carla as she held it at arm’s length, the toe end dangling over Petey’s nose. Everyone was in stitches.

Carla then surprised Petey by yanking out Linda’ sock and shoving Annie’s sock in its place. Petey was close to gagging from the dry, acrid stench the socks gave off, but the taste was thoroughly putrid. He had no choice but to suck on them as Annie pressed a moist sock foot and dirty bare foot onto his face. As she tentatively rubbed them over his face, the girls cheered. Petey took a deep breath of the odor and took the sharp foot stench into his lungs.

Annie surprised herself by enjoying having this kind of power over a man, by forcing her foot odor upon him. She thrilled to the humiliation as much as any of them did. "Smell my stinky feet," demanded Annie. Carla and the others applauded and hollered their approval. Annie then took great pleasure in placing one of her shoes over his face and compelling him to take deep breaths of the inside of her rotted old cleats. "Ever thought of getting a new pair," asked Carla. "Those are falling apart."

Girls came and went, and at five minutes a piece, they made full use of the time, forcing him to smell damp, funky sock feet, dirty and sweaty bare feet, and moldy old cleats. Linda dropped by to oversee the proceedings and asked Petey if he had any regrets about sneaking onto the premises. Petey nodded but it was too late for apologies. besides the girls were too determined to get their $100 to take to the idea of letting Petey go. They all wanted to know what it felt like to rub their dirty, foul-smelling feet over a man’s face.

For upwards of three hours, Petey’s face was presented with countless pairs of smelly, sweaty feet; humiliation was rubbed into every pour of his skin and he still couldn’t fathom what he’d one to deserve such treatment. "smell my stinky feet," demanded one girl after another. Some of them had putrid smelling feet, other’s had only slightly-smelly feet. It was a plethora of smells and after smelling inside their cleats and sniffing everyone’s sock feet and bare feet, Petey was delirious. he would have lost consciousness were it not for the fact that most of the girls manhandled him with their feet, twisted his nose with their toes, slapping him with their soles, and scrunching their toes into his face.

"As Linda knew that the balls of their feet were the smelliest, she asked the girls to hold the balls of their feet over his face long enough for him to appreciate the smell. Everyone did so quite willingly. Even Annie began to enjoy herself and forgot her objections. The girls were having too much fun, and never had they bonded so much as a group.

One by one, the girls did him with their feet, and then hit he showers. Others lingered, like Carla and two of her friends, Maggie and Nina. They’d been paid, but they loved every minute of this humiliating torture and eagerly awaited a chance to finish Petey off.

Once the last giggling girl had her fun at Petey’s expense and used his face to massage her sore feet, Carla approached the chair and remarked, "now I’m going to make him lick my feet clean." Her friends laughed. "But your soles are dirty now," observed Maggie. "I know," laughed Carla as she pressed her smelly feet into Petey’s face and cupped her toes over his nose. She then reached down and yanked a sock from his mouth. It wasn’t Annie’s sock, as a number of girls had shoved their fetid, crusty socks into his mouth to suck on. "Now lick my feet clean, asswipe."

Petey gasped and choked, but was relieved to be able to breathe through his mouth again. "Why," was all he could mutter." Then Carla shoved her dirty foot hard onto his face. "Because I said so," she explained.

Petey coughed again but stuck out his tongue and began to lick her dirty soles. He sucked on her heel and the ball of her foot until the natural pink showed through the dirt. As he cleaned between her toes, he chewed on pieces of dirt and fabric which must have accumulated their and sucked on her toes until they looked as spotless as the rest of her foot. It took him ten minutes to thoroughly clean her foot and when he did, Carla presented it to the others. "It’s like having a brand new foot," remarked Carla.

As Carla compelled him to start cleaning her other foot, Linda walked into the room. "Getting your feet cleaned?" she observed. "Good. he might as well make himself useful." "Once you finish up, I would like you to hand him over to security. They’ll need to ask him some questions. Take him directly to Nora. She’ll take care of things."

Linda then removed her shoe, which she’d been wearing without a sock and rubbed her warm, pungent toes over his nose. "It would be nice to have a place to wipe our sweaty feet clean, wouldn’t it?" "Sure would," responded Carla who was shoving her dirty toes into Petey’s mouth. Linda, pleased with the results of her efforts, left the room.

Another half hour passed as Carla and her friends took advantage of his helplessness to further subject him to their dirty, cheesy toes. He licked all six feet clean from heel to toe, even scraping under their long toenails with his teeth. It was a dirty business, but what choice did he have? The girls made things worse by mocking him and laughing at how dirty and smelly their feet were. They shoved toes deep into his mouth until he gagged and then ridiculed him for having to feed on their feet.

Once they had their fun, they untied him, careful to retie his hands behind his back and to hoist him up. Petey was unsteady on his feet but regained his balance as the girls escorted him from the room. They brought him through the gym where several girls laughed at the sight of a naked man being walked outside.

As the security building was on the other side of what could only be described as a compound, most of the girls were treated to one more glimpse of poor Petey, naked and humiliated. And to think he’d smelled everyone’s feet. Each of the women who greeted him and teased him had rubbed their stinky feet on his face. And they would all have the satisfaction of knowing "yeah, he smelled my feet."

Carla and the others finally brought him up to the steps of the security building. when they knocked, a muscular woman in her thirties opened the door and eyed Petey up and down. The woman wore pants, a shirt with a nametag - Nora -- and calf-length black boots on her feet. She cracked a smile at his predicament. "Well, here he is," said Nora. "We’ll take it from here," she added as she grabbed Petey and pulled him into the room. The girls giggled and walked away, leaving Petey to the whims of Nora, head of security and her five assistants who patrolled the camp.

by Byron

28-09-2012, 10:37 PM
thank you very much for posting it for me!! may i ask do you have part 2 and 3??? thanks again

28-09-2012, 11:13 PM
i wish i had that misadventure :)

29-09-2012, 01:49 AM


So, where did we last leave poor Petey. As I recall, he’d been mistaken for a man who’d embezzled a great deal of money; and to make things worse, Petey was accused of being a peeping tom and punished accordingly. The young women at the soccer camp spent an evening subjecting the innocent Petey to the funky aroma of their feet before carting him off naked to the security building run by Nora, head of security for the girls soccer camp.

Nora was already informed of Petey’s alleged wrongdoings and she’d been anticipating his arrival for hours. Nora and her assistants were worked at the camp for this very reason, to deter would-be perverts from spying on the young women. It was time to find out the truth.

Nora grabbed Petey by an ear and pulled Petey into the lobby of the security building where the other female security officers -- all in their uniforms which consisted of pants, shirts and dirty knee-length boots -- were talking over coffee. Upon seeing the naked Petey dragged into the room, the women let out guffaws and chuckles of amusement. Now here was a wrongdoer treated the way they would have preferred to treat wrongdoers.

”Is this him?” asked Margie, one of the officers who leaned back in a chair, her boots resting on a table.

”Yeah,” responded Nora, letting go of Petey’s ear and pushing him to the floor,” this is the one.”

One of the officers -- Rhonda, or Roni, as she was called --pulled Petey up from the floor and gazed at him with a mocking grin. Within seconds she pulled a face and let Petey fall to the floor. “His face smells like stinky feet,” remarked Roni. the others laughed.

”Well,” added Nora, “considering those girls have been rubbing their sweaty feet in his face for hours I’m not surprised. They look so sweet, who knew the had such nasty smelling feet.”

The women laughed heartily at Petey’s predicament before Roni stepped over to him and pushed him to the floor with a boot to his chest. She stood over him. “Life stinks, doesn’t it,” she remarked. The women laughed even harder.

Another officer by the name of Tamara stepped over to Petey and tapped him on the head with the tip of her boot. “I bet you enjoyed smelling their stinky feet; but you don’t deserve to good a punishment. You don’t deserve to eat the toe cheese from under my toenails, and you certainly don’t deserve to clean the dirt from my calloused feet.” She then pressed her boot onto his face and pushed it into his face as if she were putting out a cigarette she’d dropped to the floor.

”Aren’t you intense,” remarked Margie.

”Be glad it wasn’t us smearing our stinky feet in your face,” continued Erika, one of the other officers. “Whenever Tamara and Roni take off their boots, I mean ... woosh.”

”That’s not fair,” answered Roni. “We were twelve hour shifts, and, besides, I don’t think you’d be getting the award for freshest-smelling feet.”

Yeah,” replied Erika,” I know; we all on our feet all day; but I’m just saying he’s lucky he didn’t have to do our nasty ‘ol feet.”

”Enough,” barked Nora. her demeanor softened, Nora suddenly changed the conversation. “Alright, footboy,” she began, to the amusement of the others, “You’re going to come clean here. I want a confession out of you. This can be painless or it can be grueling; it’s up to you.”

Petey sat himself up as Nora addressed him.

”You have a lot of balls stealing that money, then thinking you could trespass just to watch some young women get undressed; I was told you were found near the changing rooms.”

That’s not true ... honestly,” pleaded Petey softly.

Nora placed a boot upon his chest and pushed him to the floor. “You’re not getting up until you stop lying.”

”I’m not lying,” replied Petey.

”Shut up,” answered Tamara as she kicked him just above his hip.

Just then, Nora set the case of money next to Petey. “This is your bag, isn’t it?” asked Nora.

”Well, I was doing someone a favor and I ...” Tamara pressed a booted foot over his face and held it there as Petey struggled to push it away. Petey had little strength left after his ordeal and so Tamara had no trouble keeping her boot just where she wanted it.

”You embezzled this money, didn’t you?” demanded Nora. “Granted you don’t look much like the man they showed on t.v., but those artist renderings are always off.”

”I didn’t steal anything ...and I was only putting the case somewhere safe when I was found.”

Nora grinned. “So you were trying to hide the case, were you?”

Petey nodded. “But I didn’t steal anything.”

Tamara pressed her boot hard onto Petey’s face and he gasped from the pain.

”I don’t like liars,” explained Nora. “Now explain to me what you were doing near the changing rooms.”

”I was in the shed, not ...”

”Stop lying,” growled Nora, no longer attempting to be nice. Nora pressed her boot onto Petey’s chest and leaned over him. “Why else would you be near the changing rooms if it wasn’t to watch the girls. This has happened before, so you’re not fooling anyone. I know who you are and what you were doing here.”

”Please ... I didn’t do anything wrong.”

That’s what they all think,” answered Nora. “But you disappoint me. I’m giving you a chance to come clean, I’d even let you leave, but you persist in lying.”

”It’s true, I ...” Tamara tapped his face hard with her boot.

”Shut up,” said Nora. “I’ll make you come clean, footboy, an you’ll confess everything before you leave.”

’What are we going to do?” asked Tamara as she pulled her boot form his face. She then applied it to his groin, making him gasp. He clutched feebly at her booted foot. “Can we hurt him?”

”Let me think,” mused Nora. “If the others used their feet to punish him, why not use our feet to obtain a confession out of him?”

The others laughed as the humiliating possibilities presented themselves. “You mean kicking him?” asked Tamara. “No,” replied Nora “I mean having some fun, just as the girls did.”

“You mean rubbing our nasty ol’ sweaty feet in his face,” asked Erika with a smile.

“Yeah,” added Roni “having him sniff our toes, lick our feet, whatever ...”

“You guys serious,” asked Martina, another one of the officers. “That’s gross. I mean some of you wear your boots all day without socks or anything, and I’ve seen how dirty Margie’s feet get.”

“Shut up,” replied Margie. “I’m with you, Nora, he could, like, lick my feet clean until he comes clean.”

“But what if he smells everyone feet but mine when he comes clean?” asked Erika, still amused by the prospect of smearing her sweaty feet in Petey’s face.

Nora laughed. “Oh, don’t worry, we’ll give him a chance to confess once we’re done with him. Now let’s tie him up.”

Several of the women enthusiastically lunged for Petey holding him spread eagled while a few others came over with rope and began to tie his arms and legs to the tables and chairs.

“I can’t believe we’re doing this, “remarked Martina. “Yeah,” added Erika, “this’ll be great.” Erika turned to Petey. “Ready for funky smellin’ feet?” Everyone laughed.

With Petey secured, his struggles were in vain. “Please don’t do this, I did nothing wrong.” Two of the security officers pulled their chairs close to Petey’s head and held his face still between their boots.

“Hand me the duct tape,” asked Nora. Margie tossed Nora the tape and Nora applied a small piece to Petey’s mouth. “When I want to hear you, I’ll let you know. But I think it’s time you got to know my feet.”

Everyone crowded around as Nora placed a chair overtop Petey and began to pry a boot off. Nora groaned with the effort, but couldn’t seem to remove her boot. “I have these on so long, I think my boot stuck to my foot.” Nora tried again and was finally able to slide her boot off. Instantly, the warm, musty stench filled the small room.

Petey gazed up to see Nora toss aside the boot and flex her foot, red from being in tight boots all day and slightly dirty on the sole, black flecks of dirt dotting her heel and the ball of her foot. Her heel appeared hard and calloused and her so did the ball of her foot. Nora wriggled her toes as she held her bare foot over his face.

“Oh man, Nora,” remarked Erika wrinkling her nose “that is so rank; don’t you wear socks or pantyhose?”

“I like how the boot makes my foot feet,” explained Nora, still taunting Petey with her wriggling toes.

“The others were shifting back away from her foot, laughing and holding their noses. “You’re feet stink,” observed Martina.

“Yeah, I know,” remarked Nora. She turned to Petey. “Now I want you to take a big whiff,” she said as she brought her sweaty, dirty size 10 down onto his face with a slap.

Her foot gave off the pungent, sharp stench of boot leather and sweaty feet. There was no doubt that Nora had been wearing her boots for a long time, and her foot was still very moist with perspiration. The smell of her stale, sweat-soaked feet turned his stomach, and he attempt to move his head away; but they others held his head in place with their boots.

“Pretty stinky, huh,” remarked Nora with a giggle. “Now don’t you wish you’d played ball with us?” Nora then pressed her warm, moist foot onto his face, grinding his nose into the soft, pungent toe groove.

“Boy, do you ever sweat, Nora,” remarked Erika with a giggle. “I’m a hard-working woman, what can I say” was Nora’s reply.

With her ripe, dirty toes cupping Petey’s nose, Nora began to unzip her other boot. With a great deal of effort, she was able to yank her other foot from the boot and promptly pressed it onto Petey’s face.

She laughed, as did the others, when she worked his nose in between each of her toes. “You know,” observed Nora,” I’ve got to take better care of my feet; the boots make them so dirty.”

“Well, you wear them every day,” replied Martina who appeared to be as amused by the sight of Nora working her feet in a man’s face as any of them. “You could try cleaning you toenails.”

“It’s good they’re dirty and stinky,” mused Nora. “This should teach him a lesson.” Nora’s enthusiasm quickly increased and she rapidly probed every inch of his face with her toes and soles.

“I think you’re enjoying this a little too much,” said Roni.

“Oh, when you’re sitting here, you’ll be having as much fun as I am. How often do you get a chance to rub your stinky feet in a man’s face, huh?”

Nora turned to Petey and pressed her toes over his nose. “Smell my stinky feet,” she yelled, slamming one putrid-smelling heel into cheek. Erika and Tamara, both holding Petey’s head in place with their boots, gave him a few kicks before holding his face tighter between their feet.

“Hold on,” exclaimed Nora as she jumped up and ran to her locker. She retrieved a pair of dark crusty socks and holding them up high, resumed her seat. “I haven’t washed these in weeks; I just keep them on hand when I do decide to wear socks.” Nora held them to her nose and immediately drew away from them, her nose wrinkled with disgust. “Pretty foul,” she remarked.

She surprised everyone by reaching for Petey’s mouth and forcing it open. She dangled the crusty, cheesy toe ends over his reluctant nose before stuffing them into his mouth. “Suck on these while you learn to be a better footsniffer,” said Nora before returning her sour-smelling calloused feet onto his face.

For five minutes or so, Nora wriggled her toes over Petey’s nose, compelling him to smell the balls of her feet and underneath her toenails. Then she yanked he socks from Petey’s mouth and held her heel just over his lips, ordering him to give her dirty feet a cleaning.

Petey, still disgusted by the sight and smell of Nora’ s cheesy unwashed feet, hesitated too long; and Tamara slammed her boot against his head. He winced in pain.

“Come on, do my feet, footboy,” said Nora. Petey opened his mouth and began to dab at her rough, thick heel with his tongue. As she pressed her heel into his mouth, he had no choice but to suck on the toughened, grimy flesh, and scrape it with his teeth.

“That’s it,” said Nora with a smile. “Suck ‘em clean.”

“Oh, this is great,” remarked Roni. “I want him to sniff my stinky toes and lick ‘em clean too.” By now everyone was shouting and cheering gleefully. They reminded Petey if he missed a post or if Nora’s heel was still dirty.

Petey slowly licked the length of her pungent, salty, sour feet until he sucked on the balls of her feet, which were just as grimy as her heels. But it was cleaning between Nora’s toes which amused the women the most, because they watched as Petey appeared to be chewing and swallowing toejam. Petey cleaned one foot while Nora pressed her warm, sharp-smelling toes over his nose to be sniffed; and then Nora placed the next heel over his mouth.

It too Petey ten minutes to clean Nora’s feet; and once done, she held them out to admire them. She wriggled her toes to see if any dirt remained between them.

“Impressive,” she remarked. “Your mouth could come in quite handy. Pity you’ll have to leave eventually.”

“Does he,” queried Tamara, eliciting a laugh form everyone.

“True,” added Nora. “We would have someone to rub our feet and suck on our toes after our shifts; and he’d do the same for the girls. “ The others applauded the suggestions.

“My turn,” exclaimed Tamara as she stood up and occupied the seat only just vacated by Nora. Tamara enthusiastically kicked off her boots and held her dirty sock feet with toe imprints over Petey’s face. her feet gave off a strong, sharp odor of old, unwashed sports socks and fermented shoes. It was repugnant.

Petey tried to turn his face but couldn’t, Erika and Roni held his head still.

Tamara wriggled her sock toes, as she slowly lowered them. “When they touch your nose, I want to hear a big sniff.” Within seconds, a warm, damp sock foot slid onto his face, and he could feel toes clasp at his nose. From the stench, it was clear that Tamara wore her boots everyday; it was ripe and cheesy and to be forced to smell it, even after what he’d already endured, was humiliating. The odor overwhelmed him but Petey had no choice but to breathe it into his lungs.

She began to slowly rub her sock feet into his face. “I love this,” she said with a hearty laugh. “I want to do this whenever my feet stink.”

“Ah, that would be everyday, I think,” laughed Erika.

“And I thought my feet stank,” observed Nora, holding her fingers over her nose. “At this rate, this is going to be an interesting evening for him.” Everyone laughed.

After compelling Petey to smell her stinky sock toes, she removed her socks and stuffed one of them into his mouth. “I hope you like the taste of sharp cheddar,” she remarked with a grin. The taste was stale and vinegary; but the stench of her sweaty feet as she pressed them into his face, was worse. “Smell them good.” They were solid, stout feet with large, stubby toes and they reeked of old shoes.

Petey sniffed the length of her feet, paying special attention to her grubby, cheesy toes which she wriggled over his nose the entire time. Five minutes passed before Tamara, like Nora before her, yanked her socks from Petey’s mouth and began to insert a rough, dirty heel.

“Bon appetite,” chuckled Tamara as she watched Petey lick the flat of her wide heel and feed on the salty sweat which covered her soles. Tamara especially enjoyed having her toes sucked and continued to remark how she could use this kind of treatment everyday. “I love it. No complaints about the stink; no remarks about the dirt. I just get my feet worked on.”

In like fashion, the other women, Roni, Margie, Erika and Martina, some of them with sweat socks, some of them with sweaty bare feet pulled form boots worn without socks, introduced Petey to a variety of strong, pungent foot odors, some distinctly cheesy, others fruity, and others reminiscent of rotting shoes. It was amazing just how poorly these security officers took care of their feet. Calloused feet with bunions were rubbed over his face, unwashed toes clasped at his nose and dirty toenails pressed against his nostrils. Their feet were thoroughly sweaty and the women gleefully worked their pungent, stale foot sweat into his face.

The women laughed and giggled like girls at a slumber party as they tormented him with rank socks, dangling them over his nose and forcing him to suck the sour sweat from them; they prodded him with their boots and feet and even took to stepping onto him rather than over him. They used his face to massage their feet and groaned with pleasure as they worked their sore toes over his nose. The thrill of having cool air breathed through their warm, pungent toes was even more thrilling to them, and they demanded that Petey sniff their toes repeatedly.

Feet, dirty from wearing boots barefoot and from walking on the floor, were rubbed over his face and body, while he was expected to lick every grimy inch of their feet, all six pairs, feeding on toe jam and the dirt which colored their heels and soles. Tamara and Erika later took to cleaning their toenails and feeding Petey whatever they scraped from under them. It was enough to make Petey sick, but he had no choice but to do what they wanted and to suffer humiliation for their amusement. Hours passed before Nora and the others offered to let him up.

“So,” began Nora. “Are you ready to confess, or are we going to have to humiliate you some more. Maybe this time we’ll make you clean our asses.” Everyone laughed.

Petey was to stunned by events to say anything at first; all he could do was slowly nod his head. The women applauded. “See, was that so difficult?” added Nora.

“I think this was my favorite interrogation,” added Tamara. “We should use our stinky feed to weed out the truth every time. Who knew my foot odor would come in so handy?” The other women were in stitched from laughing so hard.

Nora and the others proceeded to untie Petey, and when he climbed to his feet, still unsteady and completely naked, the sight made the women laugh even harder, some of them tearing.

“I can’t believe we made him smell our feet,” said Erika. “I can’t believe we made him lick our dirty feet,” added Roni.

“All in the name of justice,” explained Nora. She then turned to Petey. “You’re free to leave.”

Petey glanced at the mocking faces and realized he had no clothes. “What about my clothes?”

Nora, smiling, tossed his clothes onto the floor at his feet, and Petey, still dazed and confused from hours spent having smelly feet rubbed in his face and still reeling from the bitter taste of ripe feet, fell on his knees to collect them.

Martina, who had been speaking on the phone to someone, hung up and approached the others. “I told them we were releasing him , but they didn’t seem too happy. They’re coming over for him.”

Nora turned to Petey. “Well, you have our permission to leave, if you can get out of here before they get here. Petey, hearing a few high-pitched shouts outside, held his clothes to his chest, and without taking the time to get dressed, raced outside. The security officers followed him to the door and taunted him as he raced into the dead of night. “Thanks for not complaining about our stinky feet,” said Tamara. “You can clean our nasty ol’ feet anytime,” added Erika.

As Petey ran form the building, he could see a group of girls racing towards him from the sleeping quarters. It was dark, but Petey could still make out about twenty of them. “There he is,” Petey heard one girl remark. “Quick, before he leaves.” The girls let out a group cheer and shouted at Petey to stay still.

Naturally, Petey darted away from them and, his clutching his clothes to his chest, made off in the direction of the wall. But the girls were fast, and he could hear their voices grow louder until he could hear their footsteps thunder towards him. Petey threw the occasional glance back to note, with consternation, that the girls were gaining on him. he could already see the triumphant smiles on their faces, as if they knew they had him.

Petey eventually approached the wall and quickly tossed his clothes over. He had seconds to spare as the girls shouts grew deafening. “We’ve got him,” yelled someone. But climbing the wall was slow work as there were few places to get a foothold. His first attempt was too hasty, and he fell back to the ground, but he picked himself up and tried again, this time with more success.

Petey must have climbed halfway up the wall when the girls crowded around him underneath. Fingers grazed his heels as the girls leapt up to reach him. Soon, sneakers were tossed at him, some of them hitting him in the face. All Petey could do was hold on until they ceased their assault. But they continued to bombard him with sneakers. “You’re not finished, you’re going to clean our feet too.” he could hear giggles as one of the girls made remarks about him being naked and about the size of his penis.

Petey maintained his grip, but the sweat form his fingers was making it difficult to hold on. He could feel himself slipping. Petey quickly resumed his assent. Another sneaker hit him on his right hand, and Petey instinctively pulled it away from the wall. With only one hand supporting him, Petey could feel himself slipping. It was a matter seconds.

“He’s coming down,” remarked one of them. “Timber,” added another voice. More giggles and cheers.

Petey, contemplating the inevitable, closed his eyes as he fell to the ground. He was promptly grabbed from all sides and the girls hoisted up their catch. “You’re not going anywhere,” said one of them. “You’re going to stay with us and service our feet all day and night.” Petey gulped at the prospect. But he was in their hands now.

Poor Petey, a ratty old tennis shoe affixed to his face with shoe laces, was carried off to the girl’s sleeping quarters. I’ll leave the rest to your imagination. Petey did leave eventually, but not before the women of the soccer camp humiliated him for days with their stinky dirty feet. Oh, poor Petey.

by Byron

29-09-2012, 01:56 AM

Once again it appears that misfortune continues to single out Petey, a man who wants only to please but who does nothing but offend. Last we saw him,

Petey had been mistaken for a bank robber and punished for a crime he didn’t commit. In this tale, Petey is once again the victim of mistaken identity, but

this time it’s the criminals who mistake him for a man of importance.


It was cold when Petey woke up on the wood floor of an abandoned room. It was dark, too dark for an ordinary evening. Either there were no windows or the

windows had been boarded over.

His body ached and as he attempted to reach for his leg, it became clear why. His wrists had been tied together in front of him, as were his ankles. No

amount of struggle could loosen the rope; movement only tightened the knots which dug into his flesh.

Feeling his bare buttocks on the cold floor produced the next revelation. He was naked. All but for the dress socks which had adorned his feet. What had

happened? He remembered his job interview, which had gone incredibly well. But the rest was a blur.

A throbbing pain in his head was a clue. Had he been knocked unconscious by a blow to the head. He’d been walking down the alleyway to his car. Had he

reached his car. He didn’t remember.

Petey attempted to move by throwing his body from one side to the other. He rolled onto his back and than let his legs swing to the floor again. But his feet

hit what must have been a cabinet or table before finding the floor. The collision punctuated the silence; and then silence returned. Petey hearing nothing but

the throbbing of his heart beat.

And then there were footsteps, growing louder as they approached from downstairs. From the sound of it, they were heavy booted feet. They stopped; and a

door swung open, casting a light into the room, unfurnished but for several chairs and a table.

Heavy boots slammed into the floor. The jingle of a chain scraping a light bulb was soon followed by a click as light filled the darkened room.

Petey gazed beyond his naked body, past the raw skin on his ankles to the owner of the boots.

A woman, wearing what appeared to be army fatigues and a tee shirt, chuckled to herself as she observed Petey. Suddenly conscious that she was gazing

at his bare ass, he attempt to swivel his lower torso away from view.

The woman laughed some more. “Well, mister,” she said with a raspy voice. “Seems like you finally decided to wake up.”

“Where am I?” asked Petey.

“Assuming you play ball, think of it as a little trip. If you don’t play ball, why don’t we just say you’re in hell.”

“What do you want?”

“Just can’t believe anything bad could happen to you, huh” remarked the woman with a smile, her arms folded over her chest. “Your Daddy makes the

money and you enjoy it. Well, time to share the wealth.”

“I don’t have anything. Maybe a thousand in my account. You can have it. Just please let me go.”

“You’re offering me a thousand?” she asked. “A thousand fucking dollars?” Taking Petey by surprise, she fell to her knees near his face and grabbed him by

the hair, holding his head inches from the floor.” She was pulling hard, and Petey could do nothing but beg her to let go.

“We’re already making the arrangements, you fucking asshole. I don’t care about your money, just your Daddy’s. You can just lay there and feel sorry for

yourself, for all I care. When he pays us, we’re outta here.”

She dropped his head, letting it slam into the floor.

“My father doesn’t have anything. But I’ll give you what I have.”

A booted foot pressed into his head.

“Shut up before I shove my foot in your mouth,” she bellowed. Petey shivered in silence.

The woman grabbed a chair and sat on it. With one booted foot, she pushed him onto his back. She quickly extended her feet and crossed them over his


"You feel like scum now?" she asked with a smirk. "You're not even good enough as a place to rest my feet. Guys like you ... thinking you're better than

everyone else. Hope you like how it feels." She seemed satisfied.

"I haven't done anything, but if you need money, maybe I can help." Petey's intentions were good despite his awkward circumstances. But his good

intentions were getting him in trouble.

"Don't you know when to shut up? We don't run around town all day, trying to find you and then when we do, have to haul your ass out here and put you in

here. "

"There must be a mistake."

"Shut up or I'll put a sock in it." She paused for a moment, pondering something, before a mischievous grin began to form.

"Maybe it's time for a little pay back. You know my father got laid off from your company two year's ago, after working him to death for thirty years. Use 'em

and drop 'em. Now we'll see who gets the last laugh."

She raised her boot and held it over Petey's face. "Lick it. Now. And tell me you're sorry."

"But I didn't do anything."

She pressed her boot down hard over his mouth. "Do it or you'll wish you were dead."

She kicked him softly in the nuts, enough to knock the wind out of him. "Next time I'll kick 'em hard."

Petey licked the dirty boot and apologized. "I can't hear you." He apologized again. Satisfied, she pushed his head before returning the boot to his chest.

"Now some payback for being on my feet all day having to kidnap you and watch over you while the others get the cash." The woman bent over and began to

untie her boot laces. "Just to humiliate you a little more, because you deserve it."

With a groan, she pried off her boot using Petey's face. It fell to the floor with a thud, but before he could turn his face away, the woman jammed a damp ,

warm sock foot onto his face, scouring it with the rough sock material.

The stench was incredible. She must have been wearing the same socks for days or rarely took off her boots, because the odor was overpowering, like old

rotten shoes and sour milk. He turned his face, but she used her other booted foot to turn his face upwards so she could manipulate his nose with her crusty

sock toes.

"Hate being at the wrong end of the abuse? Stinks doesn't it," she remarked with a chuckle. "Go ahead, have a whiff of defeat. Get it, de feat. "She laughed

at her own corny joke. But Petey wasn't laughing.

He couldn't speak, what with her large size 10 sock foot working its way over his face, her toes grappling with his nose, inflicting their foul, stale stench upon

his nose. It was nauseating, but the more he struggled, the more it amused her.

"Please," mumbled Petey. "Don't do this. It's horrible."

"I thought I told you to shut up," she replied. "Remember what I told you?"

Without hesitation, she grabbed hold of her damp sock and peeled it off, dangling it over his face. She held a soiled size 10 calloused foot over his face, her

thick toes wiggling as if taunting him with the unpleasantness to come. Petey saw her toes approach until the warm, sour stench of her toes trapped his


He opened his mouth to breath, but as he did so, she stuffed the crusty sock into it, laughing at the brilliance of her trickery. "I warned you. Now suck on

that while you smell my foot."

The pungent, vinegary taste of her sock was nauseating, but he couldn't spit it out. Her sole covered his mouth while her dirty toes wiggled overtop and under

his nose. "Now maybe you'll get an appreciation for those who work for a living. I'm on my feet at the factory all day so don't be surprised they stink."

With her warm toes curled over his nose, Petey had no choice but to take deep whiffs of the sickeningly-sweet stench, and the cheese from under her dirty

toenails. The taste of her dirty sock didn't help much either, nor did her mocking laughter. "Stinks down there, doesn't it," she said with a chuckle.

Minutes seemed like hours, every whiff of her pungent foot odor, sickening. He didn't even realize she'd taken off her other boot when the sharp, ripe stench

of a warm, sock foot covered his nose. He felt like coughing, but her feet clamped his face still. Noticing the sock begin to slide out of his mouth, she used

her heel to grind it back in. "You're not finished yet, asshole."

Damp sock toes played with his nose, the hot sour stink of unwashed socks still overwhelming. And then the door creaked open.

"What's going on, Mona?" asked a woman with a slight Puerto Rican accent. Wearing sweats and a jacket, the other woman approached. Her black hair

hung in a pony-tail which dangled as she peered over at Mona's handy-work. Not seconds after seeing Petey with a dirty sock in his mouth and a pair of

dirty feet over his face, did this woman double over with fits of laughter.

"Trust you to come up with a cruel and unusual punishment," she said, pinching her nose and stepping back.

"I'm going to have him clean 'em too. Figured I'd make him useful."

"You're disgusting," added the second woman with a laugh. "I love it."

Another woman emerged. "Chris?"

"I' m here, Ros," answered Chris, still laughing at Petey's predicament.

Ros, slightly overweight, with short dark hair, jeans and sneakers, peered over. "I don't believe it."

Mona seemed pleased with herself, kneading her sock toes into Petey's face. "You've got an audience now. Smell my feet."

Petey had to breathe, after all, and took a long breath. Still putrid. Chris and Ros dissolved into fits of laughter.

"You should try it," said Mona. "You know what a scumbags he and his father are. He's going to learn he's no better than us before we let him go. Barely fit

enough to lick my stinking feet clean." She turned to the others. "Any word from the others?"

Chris shrugged. "We'll see." "We're waiting for his Dad to respond. They'll call when they get the cash." She turned to Petey. "I still can't believe you made

him smell your nasty feet."

Mona peeled off the wet sock and cupped her warm, dirty toes over Petey's nose. "Smell my feet, asswipe." Petey took a breath. The sour stench was

turning his stomach. He turned away but it was no use. Her agile, sweaty feet grappled with his face and slid over it, easily holding him in place.

"Want to try?" asked Mona.

"I hate the bastard, but not that much," replied Ros. "You never let me take off my shoes. You sure you want me to do that?"

Mona wrinkled her nose. "We'll make an exception this time."

Petey turned and noticed a pair of scruffy-looking Puma's to his right. She didn't appear to be wearing socks. He moaned his objections, but couldn't

articulate anything. He couldn't stomach another pair of smelly feet on his face.

Mona yanked the sock from his mouth. "What?" she asked.

"Please. I'll do what you like. Just don't make me ..." Mona quickly stuffed the fresh, crusty sock into his mouth with a giggle. The others laughed.

"Your father'll give us what we want. You're here to have fun with, foot licker."

"You're wicked," remarked Chris. "But I'll do it, if Ros does it. My feet stink, but I'll do it. Never had a guy sniff my feet before. Might be fun.” Chris laughed.

Mona slapped him in the face with a bare foot, jamming her cheesy toes up his nose, before pulling them form his face and standing. She offered Ros the


Ros, giggling like a schoolgirl, gazed at Petey, the sock still in his mouth, and laughed. "I can't believe I'm doing this."

Using one foot to pry off a sneaker, Ros extending her size 11 foot, speckled with shoe dirt and caked in stale sweat, and pressed it onto his face. It was a

sharp, pungent smell, like rotten sneakers and old sweat socks., overpowering and distinctly cheesy, like Parmesan. It was a wide foot with meaty padding

at the balls and heels, and she knew just what to do with it, curling her grimy toes over his nose.

"He's smelling my nasty feet, "she remarked, resting her other foot on his chest.

Ros slid her grubby toes just under his nose, resting them there long enough for him to take a few nauseating whiffs from under her nails. She just laughed

as she tried new positions, pressing a heel under his nose and sliding her foot all over his face. "Smell my feet. Ohh, they smell bad." The others laughed.

The other two women were enjoying Ros' enthusiasm, sliding his nose between her toes and then clutching at it, ordering him to take deep whiffs. It wasn't

long before the other sneaker fell off and a freshly foul, sweaty foot joined the other one, vying for control of his nose in a frenzy of stinky toes. Her big feet

slid over his face, controlling it utterly, manipulating and rocking it back and forth.

Then with a giggle, Ros retrieved her scruffy sneaker and turned it over onto Petey's face. He could see the dark imprint of her heel inside the opening before

she fitted the shoe over his nose.

"And I thought I was cruel," laughed Mona.

The stench of her rotten sneakers was more than he could bare. He struggled to push himself away, but Ros simply giggle, bending over to hold the shoe

tightly in place. "Happy sniffing," she remarked.

It was an acrid stench which filled his nose, making him dizzy. The stink of fresh Parmesan and shoe rot consumed him; and as he could feel himself losing

consciousness, Ros removed the shoe.

"Almost lost him there," replied Chris. "My turn." Chris, wearing ratty running shoes without socks, grabbed a chair and placed her size 8 feet onto his

chest. She pried off a shoe and before relishing the cool air on her hot toes, pressed them onto Petey's sweat-soaked face. The sharp, sour stench of her

feet was too degrading, especially as she was grinding her sweaty foot over his nose and laughing.

Holding her own nose, she commented: 'Damn. Those are nasty." The others laughed. But Petey had no choice but to inhale the sharp stink of days-old foot

sweat and sneaker. There was dirt between her toes, which he could see whenever she raised her toes to find a firmer hold over his nose, pressing the ball of

her foot over his nose and ordering him to "smell those stinking feet."

With both bare feet, she rubbed copious amounts of pungent foot sweat all over his face and covered his face with them. But she was restless.

"I want him to worship these dirty feet. I want him to lick 'em clean and thank me."

Mona laughed. "And you were saying I was cruel for suggesting it."

Gazing at her dirty feet, Petey shuddered at the thought of cleaning the filth and sticky sweat from them. But Chris wanted some foot worship.

Yanking the sock from his mouth, she quickly pressed her grimy heel over his mouth. "You can start by licking those clean."

"Do it, or I'll smash your balls, "said Mona.

Petey remembered the blow to his crotch and opted for the lesser of two evils. His tongue reluctantly found the hard flesh of her heel and slid over it. But she

pressed her heel into his mouth until his entire tongue was covered with her heel. The salty, sour taste was awful; he could feel particles of dirt in his mouth

as he began sucking on the heel.

"This is so disgusting," giggled Chris. "I don't believe we have this guy licking my dirty feet." It took several minutes of sucking and licking to get her heel

clean before he began work on her wrinkled soles, quickly moving on to the filthy, rubbery ball of her foot before she plunged her dirty, cheesy toes into his

mouth and ordered him to suck them clean.

"Get between the toes." He was close to choking on her toes which wriggled inside his mouth, but he did as she asked, sliding his tongue between her toes

and sucking on the grainy, bitter flesh. He didn’t want to think about where her feet had ben or what he was eating from between her smelly toes. He just did

as he was told.

His fears were confirmed when the second foot, just as dirty and pungent-smelling as the first was presented to him. “Start at the heel, fucker,” ordered

Chris. It took ten minutes to lick her sweaty feet to her satisfaction before she stood up, letting Ros have a seat.

Ros raised one of her big, calloused, filthy feet over his face, cupping her toes over his nose for a few more whiffs before ordering him to “lick my nasty feet

clean.” Before long, he was sucking the toughened flesh of her heel and licking the dirt from the creases on her soles. Plunging her unwashed foot into his

mouth, she wiggled the toes of her other foot just above his nose. “Sniff and lick.”

She squeezed his nose with her cheesy-smelling toes and ordered him to clean between her sour-tasting toes, which barely fit into his mouth.

“I love it,” remarked Mona. “That’s what he deserves … a dirty foot in hismouth. Hope it tastes good.”

Petey moaned his objections, Ros’ foot wedged into his throat; and the others laughed.

“Now thank me, and I’ll let you clean my other foot,” she asserted.

He hesitated, but long enough for Mona to send a foot into his crotch. He gasped and thanked Ros for her feet.

“Now clean this one.” Another filthy size 11 foot reached for his mouth, toes first. “Lick my bare foot, scum.” He extended his tongue so Ros could slide her

dirty foot over it, eventually plunging a heel into his mouth and ordering him to suck.

Mona was watching, eagerly waiting her turn and taunting him. “How’s that taste, foot licker. Now finally an occupation worthy of you. Pity you can’t do this

for the other women at work.”

It wasn’t long before Mona resumed the position and raised a foot over his face. Her foot was filthy after walking barefoot on the floor. Petey’s evident disgust

at her dirty wrinkled soles amused her. “Not up to it? Well, don’t worry. Just open your mouth an I’ll do the rest.”

Mona laughed as she thrust her dirty toes into his mouth, wiggling them eagerly. “Now give me some quality sucking and I want those feet spotless. You’re

incompetent, but I’ll make you a good foot licker if it’s the last thing I do.

Like Ros, she curled the sweaty toes of her other foot over his nose while filing his mouth with the toes of the first foot. The combination of sour foot odor and

bitter, salty foot sweat and dirt was making his stomach hollow. If only he didn’t have to breath in the pungent stink of unwashed, sweaty feet; it was bad

enough he had to lick them.

“Why don’t we keep him/” suggested Chris. “Then we’ll have our own foot licker. To live and breath our stinking feet.”

“We can keep him as long as his father doesn’t pay us.

Having said that, Mona grabbed her sock, draping the toe end over his nose began squeezing it with her bare toes. The humiliating stench of unwashed

socks filled his senses.

‘Stick out your tongue,” she ordered. He did so and Mona began slide the length of her long, calloused foot over his tongue, from heel to toe, before pressing

her dirty heel over his mouth. ‘Suck it.” He did, and for the next ten minutes devoted his efforts to licking and sucking the dirt from her soles and toes,

occasionally using his teeth to scrape them clean.

The women giggled and joked with one another, unable to erase the smiles from their faces. It was a mixture of disbelief that some guy was actually sniffing

their stinky toes and licking their dirty feet, and amusement at deep-throating his mouth with their feet.

It wasn’t long before the three of them sat about him, each of them with a foot sliding over his face, pinching his nose, jabbing into his nostrils and pushing

into his mouth. It was a free-for-all and, once again, Ros placed her rotten sneaker over his nose, as did Chris.

Petey had overcome the disgust and given over to it. He licked when commanded, sucked when ordered and sniffed when ordered to do so.

And then a cellphone began to ring. The women jumped to attention, almost nervous as Chris scrambled for the phone. “Hello?” she said, the phone to her

ear. As she listened, her expression changed, registering shock and dismay. “What?”

Without saying goodbye, she let her arm go limp, the phone still in her hand.

“What?” asked Mona. ‘What happened?”

“We got the wrong guy.”

Petey was relieved. No maybe they’d let him go.

“How? I’ve seen pictures. He was right where they told us he’d be.”

“The father says he just spoke with his son and he’s not paying us a red cent.”

“It is him. It has to be.”

There were footsteps on the stairs and then the door swung open. Two women, both in army fatigues and tee shirts, entered the room. “You idiots,” bellowed

one of them. “That’s it. It’s over. It’s fucking over.”

“But it’s him,” said Mona. Look at him.”

The new arrival gazed at Petey. “It does look like him. But what’s your dirty sneaker doing on his face?

Petey shook the shoe off, letting it fall to the floor.

“Just teaching him a lesson,” explained Mona. “Putting him in his place.”

“It does look like him,” remarked the other arrival. “What if he was fucking with us. We should call his bluff.”

The first woman found Petey’s discarded suit pants and reached into a pocket. Pulling out his wallet, she glanced at the photo i.d. Her eyes widened in


Mona and Chris joined her. Mona seemed equally shocked by the photo. “Peter? He looks like him but …”

“We’re cooked.”

“I’m sorry, Isabel,” said Roz. “I thought …”

“Forget about it,” said Isabel, shaking her head. She then slammed a booted foot into the wall. “I just wanna kick something. Damn it.”

“What do we do with him?” asked the other woman, turning him over with her work boot. Noticing the other three were barefoot, their shoes laying about, she

raised her eyebrows. “Seems like you lot were up to something kinky.”

“Oh, just having a little fun with him, Maya” explained Mona.

“We made him smell our feet,” said Roz with a giggle. “He cleaned mine … with his tongue.”

“Is this funny,” asked Isabel. “We just blew our chance for a million dollars and you’re laughing.

“What can we do now?” asked Chris.

An angry Isabel approached Petey and slammed her boot onto his chest. “Who is this guy?”

“Nobody,” replied.

Isabel kicked him in the chest and pressed the toe of her boot against his chin. He cringed from the pain.

“Please. Please. Don’t kick me.”

Maya approached, slamming a foot against his leg. “We’ll kick you if we like. What the hell were you doing there? Talk about wrong place a the wrong time.”

“It’s his fault,” said Mona. “He tried to trick us.”

“I didn’t, he said feebly.”

Maya kicked him again, pressing her boot up against his crotch. “Shut up.”

Isabel pressed the dirty sole of her boot against his cheek. “Tricked us?”

“At least we have a foot licker.”

“Lick my boot,” ordered Isabel, eliciting giggles and titters from the others.

Isabel, her boot still on his face, took a seat, as did Maya.

“So you rubbed your nasty feet in his face?” asked Maya with a smirk. “Poor fucker.”

“Poor guy?” asked Isabel. “He’s the one who screwed us up.” She slammed a foot into his stomach. He doubled over with pain.

She began to unlace her boot. “So what do you do with him? Stick your feet in his face?”

“Just make him smell them,” explained Mona, “and then he’ll lick them too.”

“Incredible,” remarked Isabel. “What a dirty job,” she added, laughing for the first time. “Maybe I do feel more sorry for you than us.”

Isabel kicked off her boot, revealing a bare foot covered in shoe dirt and glistening with sweat. The hot rush of odor filled the air as Isabel flexed her toes.

“Woosh, they reek,” said Isabel with a laugh.

‘Well, footboy. Let’s see if you’re good for a laugh.” Having said that, Isabel slammed her hot, sweaty foot onto Petey’s face, curling her toes over his nose.

Pinching her nose, “I really feel sorry for you.”

Petey tried to breath through his mouth, but there was no point. The smell was sharp and musty, the sweet-sour stink of unwashed feet which she rubbed

into his face with considerable enthusiasm. “Well, let’s hear you smell ‘em.”

Feeling Maya’s boot between his legs, he took a deep breath and then another. It was nauseating. The stale, fetid air permeating his nasal passages and

making him dizzy.

As Petey took another breath through his mouth, Mona reached over, her hand over her nose, and jammed her crusty sock into his open mouth. “Now he

has to sniff.”

Isabel laughed as she continued to let her toes squirm and play over his nose. “Have a good whiff. Go on.” Petey inhaled and everyone laughed.

Isabel continued to chuckle as she watched him inhale her foot odor, breath after breath, sometimes sliding her dirty, unpedicured toes over his nose and

sometimes thrusting them under his nostrils.

“This is for fucking things up for us and getting in the way,” explained Isabel. She kicked him again before slamming her foot over his face, grinding them

onto his nose as if squeezing a grapefruit. She was rough and seemed to enjoy dishing out as much pain as humiliation. “Pretty ripe, huh?” she added with a


“I still can’t believe the poor fucker is actually smelling my dirty feet. How pathetic. Look at him sniff them. I haven’t had a chance to wash for days and I've

been on my feet all the time. Woosh.”

Another boot fell to the floor and, shortly, another foot, damp, warm and pungent-smelling slithered over his face. The ball of her foot thrust against his nose,

she ordered him to “Smell them. Smell those stinky feet.” With her toes clamped over his nose, she grabbed the sock with the toes of her other foot, pulled

it form his mouth and pressed her toes over his lips.

“So now can I have him lick them?” Isabel was like a kid experiencing a new toy.

“Just push them in,” answered Mona. Isabel did just that, sliding her filthy, sweaty feet into his mouth. They tasted awful, bitter and sour, but his tongue was

thrust up against her toes. He had to taste them.

“Suck my dirty, sweaty toes,” she commanded as she wiggled them inside his mouth.

And so Petey cleaned one foot and then another, licking the dirty crevices of her wrinkled and greasy soles, scraping the dirt from her hardened heels and

feeding on the lint and toe jam between her cheesy toes. Isabel was an eager recipient of Pete’s attentions and enjoyed slapping his face with her bare feet

from time to tape.

Maya had already kicked off her boots, flexing her dirty sock feet, before Isabel had even finished. With on slimy set of toes in his mouth, Maya introduced

her rancid, sharp stench of her damp sock foot to his nose. He lurched with shock form the smell, making everyone laugh.

Isabel kicked him. “Don’t bite me, just suck.”

Maya’s musty sock toes curled over his nose and she ordered him to sniff. “Maybe a little satisfaction for this fuck up.”

“I think we should keep him,” remarked Isabel. “I just love it.”

“Yeah, my feet smell disgusting,” said Maya. ‘And he’s sniffin’ em’. Too funny.” With one of Maya’s dirty dark socks in his mouth, Petey was sucking on

the dried sweat and stench of rotting boots while she cupped her dirty bare toes over his nose, forcing him to breath the stale air.

Before long, it was a free for all, Ros, Chris and Mona sliding their feet over his face and body along with Maya and Isabel. Toes slithered into his mouth to

be sucked upon and thrust against his nostrils to be sniffed.

Time passed, and the women remembered their predicament. But what happened to them doesn’t concern us here. Suffice it to say, they went back to their

factory jobs. No one ever suspected their attempt at blackmail.

As for Petey, the women decided they wanted to keep him. He spent the first night, tied naked to a bed until they could decide his fate. Satisfied they had

enough information about him, they agreed to let him go. But they’d blackmailed him, warning him that if he didn’t come back to do their feet, they’d make

his life a living hell. Petey knew they could and would.

The women wanted his continued services, and only a week later, paid a visit. As before, they rubbed hot sweaty, stinking feet over his face, forced him to

sniff their cheesy toes and compelled him to lick their dirty feet. “He’s our footboy now,” was the oft-heard remark as one by one, stinky toes found his nose.

Poor Petey had done nothing wrong, but what a terrible price to have paid for being unfortunate.

24-02-2014, 01:17 AM
One of my favourites